


Just in case it hasn't gone

by Lalalaartje



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Farmer Harry, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Mentions of Babygate, not in detail though, semi canon compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-14
Updated: 2016-07-14
Packaged: 2018-07-24 00:06:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7485183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lalalaartje/pseuds/Lalalaartje
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry is reminded of what he had with Louis - of those last painful weeks with him - when he finds a picture of him on his computer.<br/>It's the start of something he's not sure he wants to start again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just in case it hasn't gone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alwaysenduphere](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alwaysenduphere/gifts).



> Hi, alwaysenduphere!
> 
> First of all thank you so much for your amazing prompts, I had a tough time choosing one, but finally ended up with this one: when we were young - adele - specifically the "Let me photograph you in this light in case it is the last time that we might be exactly like we were before we realized we were sad of getting old" bit, maybe a younger harry trying to capture louis in a photograph before everything falls apart or something, or an older harry reflecting on a photo he'd taken ages ago, i don't know. any bit of the song you find inspiration in though, really, i just love the soft angstness it provides when looking through a h/l lens
> 
> I'd like to write your third prompt as well though, if I do I'll gift it to you when I post it :)
> 
> Anyway, I hope you like what I did with your prompt, and you enjoy the story. It might be a bit more angsty than you intended it to be, but I hope the ending makes up for that.
> 
> Also a big thank you to Brea for editing this in such a short amount of time, all remaining mistakes are definitely mine!
> 
> And last but definitely not least: thanks to the mods for organising this exchange, it's been really nice to take part in it!
> 
> Enjoy!!!

It was the doorbell that shook him out of his stupor. He wasn’t aware of how long of a time he had been sitting there, staring at his computer screen. He gave the girl delivering his order of new lenses for his camera a strained smile, as he handed back the device he’d just signed on to obtain his packages, before hurrying back inside to prevent his dogs and cats from escaping.

  
He didn’t want to return to his computer, not really, but even while testing the new lenses on his camera, his thoughts kept wandering and he felt the pull of the picture on the screen.  
After their break up, he’d so carefully sorted all pictures he’d ever taken of Louis into a folder and buried it on an external hard drive he knew he wouldn’t use anymore. He didn’t want to be confronted with their happiness together or Louis’ beauty anymore. Not when it had became everything he couldn’t have. He hadn’t thought about this picture until now though, hadn’t seen it in ten years so it had never caught his attention. Until now that is, when one of his colleagues had asked if he had any examples of wedding pictures. She had wanted to see what his work was like before asking him to officially photograph her.

 

Harry could hardly believe this was his life now. He had never deemed it possible to lead a semi-anonymous life. Working at a friend of a friend’s organic farm in the south of France had turned out to be exactly what he needed though. Away from paparazzi, ex-boyfriends, ex-bandmates - who reminded him too much of the life he had to give up if he didn’t want to perish. Away from his overly concerned mum and sister, away from Nick’s hopeful gazes now that he was available again. He never felt available, wasn’t sure he ever would.

  
He was happy here, in the small village with a community of about 300 people who all knew each other but didn’t seem to know who Harry Styles was when he arrived. And if they did, they were good at hiding it. Here, he simply was Harry from Max’s farm, the one who walked around with his camera whenever he wasn’t working on the field or selling vegetables in the shop. The one who grew his hair until it was long enough to donate, only to complain for months that he couldn’t get used to his short curls. The one that sometimes went out in the gay clubs in the big city 50 miles away, but never brought home anyone. Harry who simply smiled when some of the elder people of the village tried to persuade him to go out with their granddaughters or grandsons who blushed furiously as they stood next to their grandparents in the farm’s shop. They probably knew his face from the cover of magazines ten years before but were kind and polite enough not to mention it.

He resisted until just after lunch. His hands were still wet and sudsy with dishwater as he sat down at his computer again, fingers itching for a cigarette even if he hadn’t smoked for years now. Old habits die hard, apparently. Louis just looked so happy in the picture, happy enough that Harry hadn’t been able to resist taking his picture because those moments had become scarce back then. But there and then, at Ella’s wedding, he had laughed and danced and enjoyed himself without hesitation. It had been a wonderful day in so many aspects, and having Louis happy by his side - for once - had only made it better.  


Thinking about those last couple of weeks of their relationship still hurt so much. His throat clogged up, his heart thumped harshly in his chest and his lungs inhaled labored breath. They had both known it was coming to an end, things had been strained for so long already and they simply couldn’t take it anymore. It was too much, finally they had broken, and their love wasn’t strong enough after all. Their management had won the war.  


It was ironic, after all those years of fake girlfriends and stunts (and at one time almost a fake engagement that Louis had flat out refused to play along with), it had been a baby that had broken them. A baby Louis supposedly had with a one night stand, while all Louis and Harry had wanted was a baby of their own, after they would come out of the closet and have the dream wedding they’d been fantasizing about for ages. Even though Louis hadn’t had one night stands for ages, had never been stupid enough to sleep with someone he didn’t know without using a condom, for fuck’s sake. Harry still got angry when he thought about the many meetings they held about “babygate”, as the fans had called it back then.  


At first, it was going to be for a couple of months only. They would send out a story about a DNA test confirming that Louis wasn’t the father right after birth, everyone would have had their much wanted publicity, and Louis and Harry could head out to France where Harry would be filming for Dunkirk. That would have been bearable. Even the first few times the deadline was pushed back, it was bearable. They’d soldiered through endless pap walks, gritted their teeth when someone of their social media team posted badly photoshopped pictures of Louis and his supposed son and even made it past the first birthday party of the child. Of course it was all awful, but they had one goal and were determined to get there, so they shrugged it off and walked on, waiting for when their time would come, when they would finally be allowed to come out.  


Except that day never came. Not after the cringe worthy first birthday, not in the entire year after that. By the time their team called them in for another meeting, Harry and Louis had drifted apart. They hardly spent time together in the same city if they didn’t have to for work, and if they happened to be in the same house, conversations were stilted, silence was tense. But, somehow, Harry still believed their love would conquer through it all.  


They’d just gotten together with Liam and Niall and decided to add another year to their break before releasing new music and going back on tour. Most of the music was already written between the four of them so Harry was positive that after another year, a real break of work and pap walks and silly publicity stunts would fix them. They’d surely be HarryAndLouis again instead of the strangers they’d become.  


What he hadn’t expected was for their team to say that they would carry the babystunt into yet another year. Even if they tried to convince them that it was stupid because it was only getting more likely that the kid was going to slip up with getting older, management wouldn’t budge. Both Louis and Harry knew it would probably mean the end for them, Harry felt it in his bones, but he also noticed how Louis seemed resigned, tired of fighting. That had hurt. Louis was tired of fighting for him, for them.  


The next couple of months had been about preparing themselves to say goodbye. Neither had said so, but they just knew. They knew that it was the reason they spent more time together again. They knew that it was the reason they sometimes cried when they made love. They knew that every day was a day closer to the end of their relationship. One of them just had to gather the courage to say it, to really end it.  


Three months after that horrible meeting, it had been Ella’s wedding that they were both invited to. Ella had been part of their styling team and of their group of friends for as long as Harry could remember. In fact, she had been the one that had incessantly tried to persuade Louis to cut his hair when he’d let it grow out along with Harry that first time. Oh how proud Harry had been for Louis to resist her pleas, telling her he was going to cut it as soon as Harry felt confident enough about his own.  


She’d asked Harry if he would mind taking pictures at the reception, not wanting to hire a professional photographer for it since there would be a lot of celebrities around and she didn’t want any of the pictures to leak. So of course Harry said yes, walked around the party with his camera while everyone was dancing and having fun, only letting himself be persuaded to join his friends on the dancefloor when most people were too drunk to be in a picture.

 

Watching the pictures, Harry was thrown back to the night of the party. He remembered how he had been slightly hopeful, against all odds. That for one night, they’d been _them_ again, HarryAndLouis, and they’d been happy. He hadn’t been able to resist taking that picture, a close up of his boyfriend, the man he loved, at someone else’s wedding.  


Two weeks later, Harry’d woken up to suitcases all over the house, and a sullen looking Louis at the breakfast bar in the kitchen. It had been their last day, the last time of everything. Drinking tea, walking the dog, having dinner, making love. The next morning, Louis had left, along with his suitcases and the dog that had originally been his. Harry had played Adele’s “All I Ask”, on repeat for days until Gemma had finally come over and dragged him into the shower and when he was finished - out of the house.  


 

Finally manning up, Harry clicked the picture away and went on with what he was originally intending to do: create some sort of portfolio out of his wedding pictures to show to Caroline, and then see if she wanted to hire him to shoot her wedding with Jean-David.

 

He managed not to think about Louis for three entire days. It had been fairly easy though, he’d been working at the farm, harvesting zucchini’s and green beans in the morning and selling them at the farm’s shop in the evening. There hadn’t been much time to think.  


On Sunday though, Max wouldn’t allow him to work, claiming the villagers would have his head if they found out he let his staff work on a Sunday, so Harry found himself sitting at home. The weather had been nice in the morning, allowing him to do some gardening even if he tried to let nature have its way with his garden as much as possible. But soon after lunch, it had started to rain so he found himself inside again, clicking around on his computer while he sat on the couch waiting for the storm to pass.  


It wasn’t even a conscious decision, opening facebook and typing Louis’ name. They were still friends, even after all these years but Harry had removed Louis’ posts from his timeline not long after their break up, so it was a bit of shock to find a recent picture of Louis as his profile picture. He was as pretty as ever, and Harry’s heart missed a beat when he saw that bashful smile of his in the picture. He had always loved that smile and Louis had always known it too, used it to his advantage more than once, but it never mattered.  


It _was_ a conscious decision when he clicked on the messenger icon, added the picture he’d found a couple of days ago and thought about what to type to send along with it. Finally he decided on: _Came across this picture of you the other day, from Ella’s wedding. Don’t think I’ve ever sent it to you, given the circumstances. Thought it was too beautiful not to share though. XX Harry.  
_

Nothing happened for the next two weeks. Harry decided to forget about Louis again, carry on with his life and be happy with what he had found here in his new hometown. Sure, he missed it sometimes, someone to come home to, and someone who knew what he meant with one word or even just a look. He missed Louis too, sometimes. But all in all, he was happy, had been for the past ten years and he was determined to stay that way for at least the next ten.

He’d almost managed to forget about the picture and the message he’d sent to Louis. Almost. Until that Sunday, when his phone made a binging noise from a notification on Facebook Messenger.

  
_Thanks for that picture. I love it. Throwback though. Been listening to Adele’s 25 ever since you sent it. When We Were Young could’ve been the soundtrack to that picture. XX Louis  
_

Harry snorted because it was unreal how in sync they were, even when they broken up. He typed out another message

_Fuck you, 25 was MY breakup album,_ he sent.

 

Louis reply came immediately, _You cannot call the rights on someone else’s album Harold_

 

He smiled at that, but didn’t really know how to reply without sounding bitter or desperate, so he left it be, once again forgetting about Louis for the next couple of weeks.

  
He still didn’t reply when he got another message in July. He was picking the first tomatoes of the year when his phone dinged with an incoming notification in his pocket.

  
_I wanted to say hello from the other side, but you’ve changed your number. Suppose that makes sense when you live in France now. Looks nice there._

 

He could’ve replied to Louis’ horrible pun. He could’ve told him how much he loved it here, he could’ve said that he’s happy here, despite it all. He didn’t though, afraid that of finding out that the part of him that missed Louis was still bigger than the part of him that was happy with what he found here. It was because of that fear that he didn’t sit at home next Sunday, instead he hiked up a mountain, walked until he was exhausted enough not to think of his ex-boyfriend who he still considered the love of his life.

It was exactly that, he realized as he showered on Monday morning. Adele’s question had been futile, because he would never love again. At least not in the way he had loved Louis. Still loved him, probably. Because even if they didn’t work out, if their relationship had cost them not only terrible heart break but also the band they loved, he still considered Louis “the one.” If he couldn’t have Louis, he didn’t want anyone.  


Months went by and once fall was in full swing, there was not much to do on the farm. They harvested the pumpkins and Harry carved a few like always even if Halloween wasn’t that big over here. He prepared the fields and greenhouses for winter while they sold the last of their fruits and vegetables at the shop. He shot Caroline’s wedding with her marriage to Jean-David because she’d loved his pictures, and then he took his time editing their album because he had the time to spare and to fill while they were away on honeymoon for two months.

 

It was December before he properly realized that the mountains had filled with snow, while it still melted before hitting the ground in the valley. He was rearranging the freezers in the back of the shop, making room for the batch of soup he’d had on the stove (a guy had to keep busy, right?) in between the containers of frozen strawberries and raspberries he’d use to make jam whenever he really began missing the sun. He almost hit his head on the top of the freezer when the store’s bell chimed, indicating someone had come in and he swore as he looked at his watch. It was almost one in the afternoon, a time he hardly ever got customers because everyone who wasn’t at work was either eating or napping in the village. It was why he frowned as he called that he’d be out in a minute, putting all containers back in the freezer and throwing the lid back on before heading to the front of the store.

 

“Bonjour, excusez-moi pour l’attente, j’étais en train de…” he started while he wiped his hands on the towel he stuffed in the waistband of his jeans, mouth falling open when he finally looked up and saw who exactly his customer was.

“Your French has definitely improved,” is all Louis said, a tentative smile etched on his face.  
“What are you doing here?”  
“I uh. I can go again, maybe I shouldn’t have come,” he said, shaking his head and stuffing his shaking hands in his pockets as he started to walk to the door again. He was dressed too light for this time of year. Even if it wasn’t snowing today, the temperature had dropped and there was a freezing wind so it wouldn’t be too long before the ground was blanketed with snow. Louis had to be freezing in only his sneakers, jeans and hoodie.  
“No, Louis, wait!” he called out. Maybe because he just wanted to save Louis Tomlinson from freezing to death in a small village in the south of France, maybe because he was curious to see where this was leading.  
Louis turned around again, one hand on the door knob of the shop’s front door, raised one eyebrow in question.  
“You- you shouldn’t go out like that, you’ll freeze to death.”  
“Yeah, it appears my memory of the weather in the south of France was a bit biased by it being summer last time we were here,” Louis joked.  


Harry allowed himself to thoroughly look at Louis. The years had been kind on him. His hair was still the same tousled mess of melting caramel, his skin tan and his scruff looked more like he was too lazy to shave than he really intended to have a beard. He’d always loved Louis’ face smooth, though the beard suited him as well. Harry also vividly remembered the red burns on his thighs from the times Louis decided scruff was the look for him. Harry thought the laughing lines next to his eyes might have gotten a little deeper over the last ten years, but he couldn’t be sure until he’d seen Louis smile genuinely.  


“It’s December, you fuckwit. It’s probably going to snow this week. You know, there’s this thing that’s called weather forecast? You can look it up on the internet and it shows you what the weather’s gonna be like in the next few days. Very interesting concept.”  
“Very funny, Harold. What you gonna do about it? Borrow me a coat? Could always Fedex it back.” There was this tiny hint of venom behind Louis’ words and Harry hated it.  
He sighed. “Stay, alright? Even if it’s just for a bit. I’m at work until four but I don’t think anyone’s gonna come in with this wind, so we’ll probably alone. I’d been making soup. You want some?”  
“Soup sounds great, yeah,” Louis nodded. “Just gonna… like, get my bag from the cab and tell the driver he can go?”  
Harry’s heart kind of broke at the idea that Louis had really been prepared to leave as fast as he’d arrived. He nodded and disappeared into the back to get two bowls and spoons, grabbing bread and butter from the shelves on his return.  


Louis still looked a bit lost when he came back inside, a duffel swung around his shoulder that he dropped next to the stool Harry had set out for him.  


“Please tell me you don’t have only shorts and T-shirts in there?” Harry asked, faking exasperation.  
Louis chuckled. “No, no I’ve packed socks and a few sweaters as well. Didn’t count on it to be this cold though.” He picked up his spoon and started eating as if he’s been starved for weeks. “It’s good, thanks,” he said between bites.  
“How did you find me?” Harry questioned when he’d wiped up the last of his soup with a piece of bread.  
“The name of the village is on your facebook page,” Louis said, as if it explained everything. “Google maps was helpful too, as well as the men in the pub near the church. Apparently everyone still knows who you are. They seemed very fond of you”  
“I’m fond of them as well.”  
Louis nodded, plucking at his last bit of bread.  
“Why did you come here Louis?” Harry’s voice had gone softer, quieter.  
Louis shrugged. “Seemed like the right thing to do.”  
“Why?”  
“I missed you. Miss you.”  
“Yeah?”  
“Yeah. I have been missing you for ten years, but like, I handled it? I mean, I had to, I couldn’t not handle it because life went on, even if the part I always thought that I had figured out had broken down around me. So I went on and dealt with whatever came my way. And I managed not to cry as much anymore. I think I maybe even started getting over you. Not like, getting ready to love someone else because I don’t think I will ever love anyone else the way I loved you, love you still, but like, not thinking of you every day.”  


Harry didn’t interrupt, just sat there, listening with wide eyes and a trembling bottom lip that he tried to hide by pressing his lips together in a fine line.  


“And then you had to send that picture from Ella’s wedding, and it was just… such a throwback to how broken we were back then. I remembered all of a sudden how we’d been saying goodbye for weeks at that point. How I finally couldn’t handle it and packed my bags.”  
“I know.”  
“That last day, god. It was heaven and hell at the same time.”  
“It was horrible,” Harry agreed.  
“Is there- is there anyone else?” Louis asked finally, after a minute or so of silence.  
Harry shook his head, looked down at the tips of his worn boots. “No. Never has been. I feel the same. I don’t think I could ever love someone the way I loved you.”  
“Loved?”  
“Love,” Harry confirmed with a small smile, raking his hand through his hair.  
“Is that why you came here?” Louis asked, fingers creeping towards Harry’s on the counter.  
“Partly. I mean, I needed to get away from everyone and everything. I was getting sick of everyone worrying about me. Of Liam and Niall not knowing how to behave around me. And of Nick who never said anything but it was just so plain obvious that he was hoping for a chance.”  
“Asshole.” Louis gritted out, making Harry bark out a laugh.  
“Some things never change, eh? Most of all I needed a change though. I wanted to do something useful for a bit, be myself again instead of someone’s boyfriend, someone’s son and always Harry Styles from One Direction.”  
“I get why you’d want that,” Louis nodded, scrunching up his face at the memory of the endless pap walks that only ended when their management realized they weren’t ever going to tour again.  


“Cara is friends with Max, she asked if he needed a hand. Never left.”  
“Do you think we made a mistake? By breaking up, I mean?”  
Harry shrugged. “We did the only thing we could. It was becoming too much. There’s only so much weight two pairs of shoulders can carry.”  
“Hmmm. Yeah. Maybe.”  
“We were forced inside the closet, Louis, there was no way they were going to let us out. Maybe we shouldn’t have listened in the beginning, but we were in way too deep by the end.”  
“Do you like being out?”  
“I never had the kind of big interview you did. I just stopped giving a fuck and went out to the gay clubs in Marseille and Nice, for once not threatening people who took my picture or asking not to post it. I never really said anything, but I never denied anything either, and apparently that mostly did the trick. Do you like it?”  
“It’s good, yeah. Though I had imagined it to be more freeing. That aspect fell a bit flat without a boyfriend to share it with, I guess.” He smiled when Harry offered him a bottle of water from one of the shelves. “Are you planning on staying here?”  
“As long as nothing else comes on my path. I don’t have to stay, but I don’t have to go either.”  
“What if I came on your path?”  
There it was, the million dollar question.  
“Would you want to give us another chance?” Louis continued.  
“Is that what you came here for?” Harry noticed his voice sounded quite a bit harsher than he intended, but he couldn’t help it.  
“No,” Louis didn’t seem bothered though. “I came to see if I still have feelings for you or if it was just a figment of my imagination.”  
“And?”  
“I don’t think I have that much fantasy.”  
Harry smiled. “Would you want to move over here?”  
Louis shrugged, “if you’d want me to.”  


He closed his eyes, biting his lips as he breathed in and out slowly.  
“I’m going home for Christmas, like a few weeks. Maybe- maybe we could try again?”  
Louis’ smile could probably light up an entire city. Harry swallowed as he saw his Louis hop down from his stool and round the counter, closing the distance between them before he carefully pushed a strand of hair behind Harry’s ear. His hand – still as tiny as ever – cradled Harry’s cheek and he leaned in. It was slow, as if they were suspended in time, and it was clear that Louis was giving Harry the time and opportunity to stop him, but he didn’t. He didn’t want to.  


Louis’ lips were still as soft as they had been the first time they’d kissed, over 15 years ago.

 

Their kiss was one of muscle memory. Of coming home. Of finding back something they’d lost long time ago. Of love. They were going to be okay, Harry thought. Be it in France or in the UK, they’d make it work this time, without anyone telling them what they could and couldn’t do. They were always destined to be together, after all.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos&comments are very much appreciated!


End file.
